


Somewhere to Start

by EllieMarchetti



Series: Romance at Hogwarts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2020-12-21 02:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21067082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMarchetti/pseuds/EllieMarchetti
Summary: Just Hermione and Viktor's love story as it should've been





	1. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang

“Do you hear something?” Ron asked, breaking the silence. A loud and strangely mysterious sound came toward them from the darkness, a rumble and a stifled suction.

“The lake!” screamed Lee Jordan, pointing at its center, where a strange and seething turbulence sent waves crashing on the muddy banks. Something that looked like a long pole began to slowly emerge from the heart of the vortex and Ron explained to her that it was a mast, as if she hadn’t already known.

Slow and majestic, the ship rose from the water, shining in the moonlight. It looked strangely skeletal; a wreck whose dim lights in the hatches looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great lapping, the ship completely emerged, floating on the rough water, and began to slide towards the shore. A few moments later, they heard the thud of an anchor thrown into a shallow seabed, and shortly afterwards the shapes of the passengers, who wore frowned furs that made them all look the same, went up the meadows that separated them from the castle.

“Dumbledore!” yelled warmly the tall, thin, gray-haired man who led them. “How are you, my dear friend?”

“Very well, thank you, Professor Karkaroff.” Dumbledore answered.

“Dear, old Hogwarts.” he said, looking up at the castle, and smiling; his teeth were yellowish and Hermione noticed that the smile didn’t extend to the eyes, which had remained cold and penetrating. She didn’t like that man, and for as long as he would be there, she would’ve avoided him and his students like the plague.

* * *

At the end of the welcome banquet, Karkaroff summoned them to go back to the ship. As soon as Viktor got up, the headmaster approached him with a paternal gesture, asking him how he felt and whether he had eaten enough. Viktor barely had time to answer, that immediately another question followed the previous one, and mentally thanked Poliakoff for having entered the conversation and thus attracted the principal’s attention.

They reached the door with the other students, and a younger, thin, pale-skinned boy with dishevelled black hair stopped to give them way. The principal thanked him, barely giving him a glance, and then stopped and turned back to the boy. Viktor also looked at him curiously, until Poliakoff nudged Darina and pointed openly at the scar on his forehead.

“Yes, he’s Harry Potter.” a corpulent man with a wooden leg and a glass eye said in a growling voice. Karkaroff’s face lost colour but a girl who was waiting beside Potter had attracted Viktor’s attention: she had curly brown hair she probably had absentmindedly tried to comb and penetrating hazel eyes that seemed to want to set fire to the whole Durmstrang delegation. Before he could ask her what led her to detest them so much, the headmaster took them away, heading quickly toward the entrance; he calmed down only when they finally reached the quiet of the boat.

“What do you think happened between Karkaroff and that man?” Andrei asked him, when he was sure no one could hear them. He was his assistant and didn’t wanted to be downgraded in that situation; he wanted to have a career in the M.o.M., and if the news had arrived at Crouch or Bagman, he wouldn’t have made a good impression. Viktor shrugged, but he had a doubt: the glass-eyed man could only be Mad-Eye Moody, the one who had sent the principal to Azkaban.

* * *

The following day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to go visit Hagrid. They found him particularly strange, with combed hair and even wearing a suit that he had to define beautiful. Everything was explained when it was time to return to the castle for the announcement of the Tournament’s champions; the giant half ignored them to go up the hill with the principal of Beauxbatons. Just like for the Durmstrang delegation, Hermione couldn’t stand the French. At least it was what she kept repeating herself, despite enthusiastically pointing out to her friends that even the Nordic delegation was going up from the lake towards the castle. Ron also looked enthusiastic, and followed Krum with his gaze, but the latter didn’t even look around as he reached the main door and crossed it before them. Just like Ron, Hermione was also partly disappointed.

When they entered, the Great Hall was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; now it stood in front of Dumbledore’s place at the teachers’ table.

“I hope it’s Angelina.” said Fred, who seemed to have taken well the disappointment of not being able to stand as a candidate, while Harry, Ron and Hermione took their seats.

“Me too!” exclaimed Hermione, nearly breathless. “We’ll discover it soon!”

Instead the banquet seemed to go on longer than usual. Perhaps because it was the second in two days, perhaps because of the impatience, perhaps because she knew who was to prepare them, perhaps because she felt strangely observed, but Hermione didn’t enjoy the extraordinary dishes as she would’ve done under normal circumstances.

When the gold plates finally returned as immaculate as they originally were, the noise in the Hall grew brusquely, only to disappear almost instantly when Dumbledore stood up. At his side, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime seemed tense and anxious like everyone else. Hermione followed the Durmstrang headmaster’s gaze, who was inevitably resting on Krum. He was his favourite, it was obvious, but he was also the whole delegation’s and of many Slytherins and Gryffindors. Hermione also found herself cheering for him when Dumbledore took the first piece of parchment in his hands, announcing that the name of the Durmstrang champion would be written on it. When he finally said his name, she too rejoiced. For a moment, she even seemed to meet his gaze, before the boy moved awkwardly from Slytherin’s table to Dumbledore and disappeared past the door into the next room.

* * *

He was in the boat’s living room when Andrei entered, the expression of someone who has a funny story to tell.

“You cannot even imagine what’s just happened in the castle’s basement. Two fourth-year students challenged each other, but neither hit the other, and both hit an opponent’s friend.”

Poliakoff laughed, and Darina asked who the two idiots were.

“One is a Slytherin, they say his father is a Death Eater, and the other was Harry Potter himself! I cannot believe that such an incompetent has defeated You-Know-Who” replied Andrei.

“And now he’s also a Tournament’s champion!” exclaimed Poliakoff disdainfully.

"And their friends? Did they get hurt?” asked Darina. She was a good and selfless girl, but when she got angry, she was scary.

Andrei shook his head: “Nothing important, but they say that Potter’s friend, the one you find pretty,” he specified, turning to Viktor, “have grown huge teeth.”

Viktor didn’t waited a second longer and snapped to his feet, overtaking Andrei before he could stop him from doing what he intended to do.

He reached the infirmary in a few minutes, when anyone would’ve taken much longer, and as soon as he opened the double-hinged door of the hospital wing, he met the girl’s moist and reddened eyes. Madam Pomfrey, or at least it seemed to him that the woman who cared for sick and wounded at Hogwarts was called like that, had already returned her teeth to a normal size but something in her expression told him that the girl was still suffering.

“If you’re looking for Goyle he’s willing to hide behind that curtain until his nose is normal again.” she said, quickly looking away. Viktor frowned, wondering who could be Goyle.

“I’m actually here for you.” he said, approaching with measured steps.

“Do you want to make fun of the big-toothed girl too?” she asked, stubbornly looking away.

“No. I just wanted to ask you who attacked your friend.”

When she finally looked at him, her expression seemed surprised. Then she recomposed, and mumbled that it didn’t matter, that he and Harry were even.

“Then I’ll ask you who made fun of you.” he added. He wouldn’t have left that infirmary until he had someone on whom he could avenge her.

“Everyone.” she said, hiding her face in her hands.

“Miss Granger, you can…” started Madam Pomfrey, but she stopped suddenly, looking at an indefinite point behind his shoulders. “And who are you?“

Viktor turned and met Poliakoff’s mortified gaze. He probably hadn’t even understood what the woman had just asked him: his English was terrible.

"Professor Karkaroff asked me to come looking for you shortly after you left the boat, but I didn’t know where to find you.” He looked slightly out of breath. “They want you on the ground floor, for the Daily Prophet’s photos.”

Viktor stopped himself from snorting, but it bothered him beyond all limits.

"So, Miss Granger, I suppose we’ll see each other later.” he said, before getting up from the cot on which she too was sitting.

“Hermione, my name is Hermione.”

Viktor nodded, as a sign that he had understood, and a faint smile appeared on his face as he descended to the lower floor. It wasn’t really an answer, but at least it was somewhere to start.


	2. Trip to Hogsmeade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Viktor's first non-date

Despite what the article Andrei shown him said, Viktor continued to spend most of his free time in the library; it was the only time Hermione remained alone, though she never raised her eyes from the tomes she consulted. No Potter, no red-haired boy, yet Viktor couldn’t get close to talk to her. Perhaps it was the curious’ fault: giggling and sighing girls who were watching from behind the shelves appeared every time he thought he had found the courage necessary, irritating Hermione and making him even more nervous. The girl’s annoyance was evident in every gesture and expression she made, and Viktor feared that in the end she would begin to hate the cause of all that noise too, which was him. One day, while Potter also tried to hide in the library, Hermione seemed so angry and looked at him so grimly that Viktor feared he had misunderstood the kindness with which she had treated him in the infirmary. He changed his mind the Friday before the first trial, when she approached him in the library, despite the large number of girls who had pursued him, holding a notebook. In the beginning, she wasn’t particularly polite, and Viktor was almost certain that she was using him for his popularity, but when he began to actually become interested in house elves’ rights, Hermione also seemed to soften.

“Will you really talk about it with your schoolmates?” Hermione asked, before leaving. Viktor nodded; if he had told Andrei why he was doing it, surely he would’ve joined, and the same was true for Poliakoff, if he had promised that he would’ve spent a good word for him with Karkaroff. Even Darina would’ve surely accepted: she loved to fight for the oppresseds’ rights and had organized a signature collection to open Durmstrang also to the Muggleborn. On the other hand, he couldn’t put his hand on the fire for the others. But three was better than none, and he was sure Hermione would appreciate his gesture.

* * *

On Saturday before the first task, all students from the third year on had the permission to go on a trip to Hogsmeade. Hermione told Harry that it would’ve do him good to get away from the castle for a while, but she was actually just terrified of meeting Krum. How was she supposed to behave after that morning three of his schoolmates had asked for her and joined her association? A simple thank you wouldn’t have been enough.

Harry, fortunately, was easy to convince, but he immediately asked about Ron.

“Don’t you want to go with him?“ he asked, making her blush. The previous year Hermione hadn’t really made a secret of her crush on him, but things had changed a little since the Durmstrang ship’s arrival.

"We could meet there.” she answered, vague. She didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t thought, at least for twenty-four hours, about the quarrel between her two best friends.

“No,” Harry said dryly, leading her to wonder what was wrong with the boys. Was it so hard to apologize? Why did they persist in behaving like children who were acting up? It was such a stupid thing… She certainly didn’t mean to act like their mother, but it bothered her anyway. In part, she regretted her decision: perhaps, if she had gone to the library as usual, she would’ve done her Honeydukes tour with Krum and not with Harry hidden under the invisibility cloak.

* * *

The Three Broomsticks was a tremendous place, small and crowded, but Viktor’s mood changed radically when he saw Hermione lined up at the counter, desperately trying to be noticed by the innkeeper. He broke away from his group of friends and approached her, flaunting a security that he didn’t really have: anyway, he was taller by at least four inches and had a face so well known that the innkeeper immediately noticed him.

“Two Butterbeers.” he said, and smiled at her when she raised her head to look at him. She looked embarrassed and Viktor didn’t understand why: they talked so long, the day before…

“I think I have to thank you.” she said, but Viktor’s only reply was a confused look.

“This morning, three of your friends joined S.P.E.W.” she added. With a smile partly satisfied and partly proud, he turned to Andrei and the others, who were staring at him without restraint. Darina greeted him shaking her hand and Poliakoff showed him the thumbs up, winking at him and snatching both him and Hermione an embarrassed laugh.

“They are my biggest supporters.” Viktor explained, trying to ignore the heat that he felt expanding from his ears to his cheeks. He wasn’t used to talking about his private life: everyone wanted to know about the athlete, but even without asking, Hermione had immediately looked at the boy and not the character.

The two beers arrived and Viktor handed one to Hermione, who thanked him with a smile and insisted on repaying it until they arrived at a secluded, miraculously empty table. They passed by her red-haired friend, who sat with two identical boys who looked like him in a disquieting way and another dark-skinned student who seemed to faint when he passed by. Viktor looked away uneasily, but he noticed that only the twins greeted Hermione.

“Did you and your friend had a fight?” he asked, when they finally sat down. Evidently uncomfortable, Hermione avoided the question, urging him to sit next to her.

“It’s so full that I cannot even hear what you’re saying.” she added, immediately afterwards, a slight blush that made its way to her cheeks. Viktor tried to hold back a smile and did as he was told.

“You were saying?” she asked, moving away slightly with her chair, but still holding her arms on the table. Even Viktor did the same, hoping to put her more at ease.

“I asked how it’s going with S.P.E.W.” he lied. If she didn’t want to talk to him about her friend, he would respect her limits. So Hermione began to tell, asking for advice, exposing the possible proposals to which she had thought. He liked the way her eyes lit up when she deeply cared about the subject. He was about to tell her that he would willingly help her create the leaflets to hang in the village when a half-giant approached them and greeted Hermione in a thundering voice. He was with Alastor Moody and it made Viktor very uncomfortable. Fortunately, they didn’t entertain themselves for long.

He took Hermione back to the castle just before dinner. They greeted each other at the entrance to the Common Room, yet it was evident that neither was ready to declare ended that afternoon.

“Today, at Three Broomsticks, I heard you when you asked about me and Ron.” she admitted.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, if you don’t want to.” he reassured her, but Hermione shook her head.

“There’s not much to say, he and Harry had a fight and they’re a little tense with me too.”

Viktor’s tongue knotted in embarrassment. What was right to say, in such situations?

“I’m sure everything will settle in. Before the names were extracted, you seemed very united.”

A flash of perplexity crossed Hermione’s eyes and Viktor wanted to tear off his tongue; he had looked like a stalker. Hermione, however, asked him if they would see each other in the library, after dinner, and it reassured him a little. They said goodbye again, then Hermione turned away from him, spoke the password in a whisper, and entered, leaving him alone to meditate about the hours they had spent together.

“With Krum?! Really?!” exclaimed Potter, beyond the wall. The idea of the interrogation that awaited her tore Viktor a smile that lasted all the way to the ship, where Andrei and the others were waiting for their dose of questions.


	3. The Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry isn't the only one who slipped out of Hogwarts' walls on the Saturday before the first task.

That night at eleven-thirty, Hermione, who had pretended to go to bed early, slipped down the stairs and through the common room. Only a few remained. The Creevey brothers had managed to get hold of a good number of “Support Cedric Diggory” brooches and tried to bewitch them in order to transform the slogans into “Support Harry Potter”. Given the result they were getting, it would’ve been better if they created new ones, especially if they intended to use them on Tuesday, but it still pleased her: as the first task approached, Harry was regaining popularity among his friends and if all went as she hoped, Ron would have asked for forgiveness and everything would come back as before. Almost. Because before Hermione would certainly not have gone to the library in the middle of the night, risking to be punished by Flinch, to meet the attractive representative of a foreign school. But things could change very quickly, and she couldn’t have been happier to see Viktor’s silhouette, barely lit by the light of a single candle.

“I thought it was a good idea to have some light,” he said, trying to keep his voice low, although he didn’t do very well, “but not too much, otherwise they’ll find out.”

Hermione smiled. How many times he must have done such things in Durmstrang.

“I have been here for a while and I was looking at the lake and the forest.” he said, and somehow his tone seemed nostalgic, as if he missed Durmstrang, or perhaps Bulgaria. “Where I come from the landscape is not very different but is always covered with snow. Does it snow often here?” he asked, turning back to look at her. There was something in his eyes, a spark, that knotted her insides. She had been afraid before. For Merlin’s beard, he had lived in terror for three years! But if that was the price to pay for being friends with Harry Potter she was happy to pay it. What she felt now, however, was a different fear: she didn’t fear for her life, nor did she suspect that Viktor wanted to hurt her, but she imagined what he could go to aim from a library meeting in the middle of the night and she didn’t know if she was ready or not. So she approached the window too, stiff as if Mad-Eye Moody’s glass eye were suddenly spying on her from behind the shelves, and looked at the lake and Hagrid’s hut. She was about to respond to Viktor when she saw movement near the Beauxbatons carriage. It was Hagrid and Madame Maxime, who were on their way to the Forbidden Forest.

"What do you think they’re doing?” Hermione asked Viktor, who in turn squeezed his eyes to see better.

“A romantic date?” he suggested, trying not to laugh at the idea.

“We should follow them” suggested Hermione. In a normal situation, it would never have occurred to her to leave school in the middle of the night but that was a real emergency, so she guessed that if she had to explain to Professor McGonagall what happened and why she was near the Forbidden Forest at that hour in the night, for some reason she might even have understood.

“Why?” asked Viktor, perplexed.

“Aren’t you curious to know what is the maximum of romanticism for two half giants?” she asked, trying to sound amused. She was pretty sure that Viktor would accept, if he thought it was something that could actually interest her, and she wasn’t wrong.

"The only problem,” she pointed out, “is how not to let us be discovered.”

Of course, she could have borrowed Harry’s Invisibility Cloak but she wasn’t sure he would have been so inclined to leave it to her, and if it had happened he would have asked her a lot of questions that she had neither time nor desire to answer.

“There is a hex…” Viktor suggested, though he didn’t seem particularly convinced. “It’s very complex and I can’t use it on myself.” he explained, and perhaps this was enough to convince Hermione, who was expecting nothing but a reason to show how good she was on the field and not only to organize things for the S.P.E.W.

“You could teach me. You would be amazed to see how quickly I learn.” she replied with what she hoped would be a convincing smile.

* * *

It was not exactly the evening that Viktor had imagined spending, but he could not said to be unhappy, after they had deduced that the spell did not make them invisible only to the outside world but also to themselves. So, though with difficulty, they had taken each other’s hands, _not to get lost_, he said, and they had left the castle undisturbed and almost ran down the hill that led to the Forbidden Forest.

“How do we know where they went?” Viktor asked, once he reached the green wall of trees. But Hermione, of course, had already thought of everything and pulled something out of her pocket, showing Viktor something he could not define but probably the reason she had wanted to stop in front of the half-giant hut’s window. For a moment, Viktor was tempted to ask her if she needed help, assuming that no one in the fourth year mastered a tracking charm so well, but when he heard her whisper the spell and the thing began to shoot away in the trees, he had to change his mind. Although he knew how smart she was, that girl couldn’t stop surprising him.

The piece of vase fell to the ground but Hermione no longer needed it for a while. For a moment, she had feared that the sound of her heavy breathing, or perhaps even her accelerated heartbeat, would betray them, but the screaming men and the deafening roars would conceal anything. Viktor was speechless, and even Hermione didn’t know what to say in front of the four adult dragons that spit flames of nineteen feet. Sure, Hermione had already seen a dragon, but it was a puppy, although his first flare had scared her anyway. Those creatures, on the other hand, looked evil and rose in the space enclosed by thick wooden boards, which Hermione didn’t find to be a great idea, roaring and puffing.

“They are beautiful.” Viktor whispered. “Terrifying, of course, but also beautiful.”

Hermione didn’t feel like disagreeing, though she didn’t understand what men found beautiful in creatures that spit out torrents of fire from mouths with fangs as long as her arm.

“Do you want to see them more closely?” she asked, and though she received no reply, she deduced that Viktor had shaken his head because he didn’t even take a step. She did not blame him: it was difficult not to notice beasts of almost fifty feet in height, some even with bright colors, like the silvery blue or the green one, which growled and tried to bite the wizards on the ground. It could not have been a coincidence that four dragons were brought to Hogwarts just a few days after the first task of the tournament: they should have fought them, and Viktor had to get ready for it.


	4. The First Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has insecurities, even Hermione Granger

Hermione got up early on Monday morning and dressed up absent-mindedly: someone had noticed Viktor’s absence on Saturday night and the gossip had come from the Durmstrang ship to the Gryffindor common room, where Ginny, like the intelligent person she was, had connected the dots. When she had told her the previous evening that they would have breakfast together before the lessons started because _they had to talk_, using the same accusatory tone Mrs. Weasley used when she needed to make her children confess something, Hermione had been caught off guard: all Sunday, although she had spent almost the whole day trying to help Harry with the dragons’ dilemma, she had heard whispers and assumptions, made mainly by the female student body, about where Viktor was and what he had done the previous night, but none of them contemplated her. The theory with more supporters was that Viktor and Fleur had gone out together and swam naked in Great Lake, but Hermione couldn’t understand on what it was based on, since the two champions of the foreign delegations never spoke to each other, at least as she knew. For a while the thought that someone might think that Viktor and Fleur were a beautiful couple, that it was natural for them to get together, had annoyed her: she had known, though not so thoroughly, the boy behind the public figure and it was a lot more than a pretty face and a charming foreign accent, something that Hermione couldn’t have said about Fleur. In the end she realized that she certainly didn’t have to be influenced by unfounded gossip, although the idea that everyone saw Viktor as someone ready to see a girl naked made her uncomfortable. Would they also see her as an easy girl, if someone had discovered their meetings in the library? Her friends surely didn’t, since they were waiting for her at the Gryffindor table, obviously curious, but also willing to respect her time, provided it wasn’t too long.

“Well!" Ginny snapped after about ten minutes. “How did it go?”

Hermione sighed. How had it gone? They had done forbidden things together, which had been exciting, and he had trusted her and her spell skills so much that she could use a Bedazzling Hex on him. It had been the best compliment anyone could have done to her, as well as a very intimate moment, although no one else would have called it like that. And when he suggested that they could hold their hand to not get lost, it had been tender and utterly unforced, which she had feared it would’ve been if they kissed. But even those were things that could not be said, because Angelina, although it was evident that something was happening between her and Fred, would have killed to say that she had kissed the best seeker in the world. So Hermione thought that _indescribable_ was the best of the answers, although it didn’t seem to satisfy the two girls, who were hoping to learn more.

“How did he behave?” asked Ginny, sounding more and more like a mother, or an older sister, and not as the youngest of the group. Hermione didn’t even have time to think about it, let alone to reply, for an ecstatic murmur rose from the Ravenclaw table, where the Beauxbatons delegation was. An owl as white as snow had just dropped a beautiful white rose, which apparently she must have received from a secret admirer, in front of Fleur.

“I’m sure it’s from Viktor. How romantic!” exclaimed Emma Vanity, snatching an amused smile from Angelina. Hermione turned to search for Viktor’s eyes but he didn’t look at her, all caught up in a thick conversation with his friends. No one seemed particularly pleased, but Hermione could not hear what they were saying with all the fuss that the girls who had risen to congratulate, though Hermione didn’t quite understand for what, with Fleur were doing and furthermore would not understand a word, certain that they were arguing in the their native language.

“Surely from Viktor.” Ginny said, imitating Emma’s dreamy voice, and although her friends seemed certain that he would never do such a thing, the seed of doubt and uncertainty had been planted in Hermione’s mind, so much so that she managed to avoid Viktor helping Harry to train and focusing on the study and lessons with extreme fervor until Tuesday. She shouldn’t have, but she had followed Harry and Professor McGonagall to the champion’s tent, which was where she and Viktor first saw the dragons. She didn’t know what she wanted to do, maybe revise the spell with Harry one last time, but being there again made her even miss their fingers intertwined together so she hid in the bush, waiting for the woman to go away, and then sneaked near one of the flaps. Inside Ludo Bagman talked about what was going to happen, informing the champions that as soon as the public had sat down he would give them a bag from which to extract a model of the dragon they were going to face. Hermione mentally reviewed the information she had accumulated over the course of those days. The Common Welsh Green was certainly the least dangerous, although no one had to be underestimated, while both the Swedish Short-Snout and the Chinese Fireball had their deadly peculiarities. The Hungarian Horntail was certainly the one to be feared most because of the spikes coming out of her tail and the fire range of more than one hundred and sixty yards. Hermione prayed that neither Viktor nor Harry draw him out, but she almost let out a curse when, by exclusion, she realized that it would be her best friend to face her.

“Well, here we are!” exclaimed Bagman. “Each of you extracted the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you will challenge them, understand? Now I must leave, because I will do the commentary. Mr. Diggory, you are the first: you mustn’t make nothing more than going into the fence when you hears the sign, all right? Now, Harry, can I tell you two words outside?”

Harry replied affirmatively, and although she was curious to hear what he wanted to tell him that made Bagman act all secretively, she waited for them to go away just enough so that they wouldn’t see her enter the tent. She acted so instinctively that she didn’t even know what to say when she attracted the gaze of all the three occupants. Not that it was somehow necessary: Viktor almost ran to her and held her in an embrace so strong that he risked breaking her ribs.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, once he had let her go, but he didn’t even give her time to reply that he already reminded her that she shouldn’t have been there and that if they discovered her she would get into trouble.

“I had to see you…” she whispered, sounding like a child. She didn’t know how to apologize to him, she didn’t know how to tell him that she should never have avoided him, especially at a time like this, only because of her insecurities and some stupid gossip, so she said nothing and let him embrace her again, although this more hastily. A whistle sounded in the air, and Cedric stepped out of the tent, giving them a last puzzled look. Perhaps that scene hadn’t mitigated his concern, but as long as nothing wrong happened, she didn’t care that much.


	5. Yuleposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole Yuleposal process from both point of views

A week earlier Viktor would’ve said that inviting a girl to a dance was a joke compared to the idea of fighting a dragon but now that he had accomplished the last mission, he felt like he would have preferred to do another round with the Chinese Fireball. Although he had plenty of time to spend with Hermione, every moment seemed the wrong one and every idea was more stupid than the previous. Darina had suggested to stay classic, but Viktor was afraid of being banal, although he knew perfectly well that an overly blatant gesture would have done nothing but annoy Hermione. Moreover, every time he believed he had gotten the courage needed to ask her in person and not through a card or some other extravagant idea, one of her friends always came to rescue her because they needed help with this or that thing concerning Christmas night.

“Listen, everything will be fine.” Andrei tried to reassure him one evening after his umpteenth attempt to ask her if they could go together had been thwarted by Sakura Akagi’s arrival. “You are one of the champions, you have just defeated a dragon and she likes you, so why should she say no?”

Andrei was right, and Viktor knew it, but he also wanted to do everything right and make her feel like a princess, though he wasn’t quite sure it was what Hermione wanted. Moreover, all the girls who continually tried to invite him did nothing but make the situation worse, making her and even him nervous. When he refused a student from Hogwarts, a third-year girl who burst into tears when he told her he wanted to invite someone else, Hermione had stiffened like a broomstick and with an excuse had joined her friends, avoiding him until next morning. If possible, the last week of the quarter became even more turbulent: there were rumors everywhere about the Yule Ball and although Viktor didn’t believe half of them, many seemed to have done it, Hermione included, as they could barely carve out a few minutes here and there throughout the day to chat.

“Viktor you just have to grit your teeth and do it.” Darina told him Friday morning. It had been easy for her: she had invited Alicia Spinnet as soon as Hogwarts’ headmaster had allowed the professors to announce to the students the existence of the event in the most blatant and romantic way that Viktor had ever seen, under the eyes of all three schools, certain that the other would appreciate and readily accept with an enthusiastic kiss. He, on the other hand, was beginning to think that Hermione, after all, wasn’t so much interested in him as every time he tried to talk to her that day she was surrounded by friends. He had even thought of ambushing her while he went to the bathroom, but even there she had gone with an escort of four girls.

“If you don’t make a move,” Andrei warned him that afternoon “she’ll surely be invited by someone else.”

Terror gripped Viktor’s stomach, and he almost run to the Great Hall, where he was sure he would find her intent on taking the perfect place for dinner. He just had to say that he wanted to talk to her alone, that’s all, yet as he ran in the crowded corridors, his courage came slowly less and before he knew it he was returning to Durmstrang’s ship. Distraught, he dropped onto the bed and nervously started throwing the first golden snitch he had catch and then catching it again, as he used to do before the big games or in moments of great stress to calm down his nerves, when he had an epiphany . It was a simple gesture but certainly effective, and although he wasn’t entirely certain that Hermione could fully appreciate it, the important thing was that he knew how intimate this gift was in his eyes, so he pulled out his wand and bewitched the snitch.

* * *

Dinner was now beginning, and although she was certainly not sitting alone, surrounded by her friends who talked enthusiastically about who had invited them and how they would dress, Hermione kept looking around. Neither Ron nor Harry had shown up for the meal and Viktor never reached the Great Hall, although his friends were all there. For a moment Hermione was tempted to get up and ask Darina what had happened, but he made a bold entrance, with a big smile on his lips. He seemed proud of himself, and for a moment Hermione thought that maybe it had never been in his plans to invite her and he had just successfully invited someone else, but she didn’t have much time to go deeper into that thought because Lee Jordan, armed with a megaphone, interrupted all the conversations in the room to ask Allison Barnes. She accepted and all those who had not yet received a proposal let slip dreamy sighs, as if it were the most romantic of gestures.

“I prefer the polite way Fred did it.” Angelina said, but it was evident from the face she had made when Darina had invited Alicia that she would have preferred a more blatant gesture and this didn’t escape Hermione.

“I’m sure he has something big in mind for the ball, something that will really leave you speechless.” he reassured her, tearing a sad smile from the girl.

“He used a lot of his savings to be able to afford a new suit after he saw what mum sent Ron,” Ginny broke in. She was still hoping that somebody desperate would invite her. Hermione had told her not to say yes just because she wanted to participate because she surely would have found some girl from the fourth or fifth year who wouldn’t have been invited by anyone and would have been more than happy to go with a group of only girls but she wasn’t sure she would listen: after all, she was used to stay with older people all her life and being suddenly treated like a child just because she was a year younger than them was the saddest thing that could have happened to her. Not to mention that Harry hadn’t caught Hermione’s suggestions at all! If only he had listened to her, when she had practically told him whom to invite, at least one of them could have avoided all that drama.

“Are you serious?” asked Angelina, surprised.

“Of course! I shouldn’t tell you, but he also took you a bracelet of enchanted flowers in the same color as the flower that he’ll have on the buttonhole.” she replied. “But be careful!” she added, mocking professor Trelawney’s sensationalized tone. “I have the distinct impression that if he hasn’t already done it, he will soon bewitch them.”

All three girls laughed, but then Angelina and Ginny started talking to each other and Hermione was left alone with her thoughts, until she saw something dart before her eyes. Puzzled, she lifted her head from the plate and realized that Alicia, who was sitting opposite her, was also looking at the little golden instrument that seemed to want to be taken by Hermione.

“A Golden Snitch!” Emma Vanity exclaimed softly.

“Who do you think sent it?” asked Lavender Brown.

All the girls looked around, noticing Harry’s absence, although Hermione was sure that many of them had noticed it for some time, including Ginny.

“It must be from Potter, he didn’t even come to dinner!” Emma whispered in response, as if Hermione couldn’t hear her a couple of places away.

“That’s why he refused all those girls!” exclaimed Lavender, who had said yes to Seamus only a few days before, when it became obvious that Ron was not the least bit interested in asking her to go together.

“Don’t you think he would have asked her before if he was interested in her?” asked Parvati, in the tone of someone who just can’t see anything special in someone. Perhaps it was what shook her from her trance, perhaps the nudge with which Angelina kicked her in the ribs, however, Hermione grabbed the snitch with two fingers, frightened at the idea of breaking its very thin wings that trembled for an incredibly long and stressful moment before relaxing, sure it had been the right person to catch it. Then a little cloud of gold smoke and little sparks came out of it, snatching some verses of amazement from several students, not only from the Gryffindor table. Many now stood up, curious, both boys, especially among Quidditch players, and girls. When the smoke had dissipated, the sparks had created an italic script, in a handwriting that Hermione knew well. With a flick of her wand, Hermione brought the sparks back and released the snitch again. The entire Great Hall followed its flight, until it reached Viktor’s hands. Emma, Lavender e Parvati seemed unable to close their mouths that they had remained open for the surprise. Angelina and Ginny had gathered around Hermione, who watched Viktor as he waited for the umpteenth cloud of smoke to disappear and let him see her response. The three bright letters floated before his face and Hermione could barely see his expression, but she was sure he was smiling victorious. Most of the students applauded, although the girls who had shown themselves to be more jealous and some Slytherins who had not yet accepted the possibility that the Muggleborns were treated as people and not as society waste showed off annoyed grimaces, and Hermione was sure she had turned red as a pepper, but she didn’t care: she would go to the dance with Viktor, and it wouldn’t have been Karkaroff’s or Draco Malfoy’s disapproval to ruin her joy.


	6. The Hunger Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's hunger strike went too far

The snow fell heavily on the castle and the park, making Viktor feel less homesick. Although he was enjoying this school year as he had never done, mainly thank to Hermione, he missed his native country’s snowy hills and the countless lights of the Christmas markets where he and his brother always went as children, planning of being able to earn a free _sarmi’_ or a slice of _koledna pitka_, in hope of being the lucky ones who would find the coin inside it, but this was before he became famous: since they had begun to recognize him free tastings seemed to never end, like the people who asked him for an autograph or even a photo, ruining the magic of the moment, something that couldn’t have been replaced even by the most powerful of spells. However, Beauxbaton’s blue carriage and the half-giant’s hut seemed like a human size construction of frosted gingerbread and the ship’s hatches were covered in ice, which made him feel more at home than he had ever felt in Durmstrang. Even the house-elves who worked in the kitchens contributed, preparing, in addition to the usual rich stews, soups of beans and tripe to no end, with extreme horror of Fleur Delacour and her friends, who found that kind of kitchen too heavy. Viktor supposed there was Potter’s hand in that sudden change from a more varied series of dishes from all three countries to an almost total elimination of the French ones, but he told himself that it was due to the fact that, just like him, his opponent had also noticed that the only way to make her friend eat something was to tell her this or that dish was a typical Bulgarian recipe. Although he was very pleased, Viktor was a little worried about Hermione, who had lost a lot of weight due to her hunger strike, called to support S.P.E.W.’s cause, although at that time it didn’t seem the only one to be forcibly on a diet: all the girls ate even less than usual, even Darina, who was already of slight constitution.

“They do it for those stupid dresses.” Andrei had told him one day during one of their morning runs, where they had encountered an embarrassing number of girls that before would never have thought to train, let alone with that cold! His friend’s aversion to that ridiculous practice made him smile: those girls didn’t even realize that if they wanted to conquer the most beautiful guy of the Durmstrang delegation, who hadn’t yet invited nobody and had refused the invitations of many, certainly they didn’t have to starve as he was the first supporter of curvy girls and had tried to make Darina fatter, obviously in vain, since they first met. Viktor knew it had something to do with his sister that, when she was a little girl, had decided suddenly that her belly had to be flat and she should’ve been able to touch her fingers when she had her hands around her thighs in order to be beautiful. Things had settled down now, she had graduated and worked as a secretary at the Bulgarian headquarters of the Ministry of Magic but it had left a deep mark in Andrei and since he was just a kid he had never made fun of anyone for his physical appearance, convinced that there were other things that mattered in a person.

“I think you should talk to Hermione too: this hunger strike won’t get her anywhere but in the infirmary.” he told him, when they had gone far enough from indiscreet ears. Indeed, Viktor had already thought about it but didn’t want to influence her choices in any way: if it was so important for her to make it a personal cause, she had every right to continue and he, as far as possible, would support her, or at least he would have until things had gone too far. “One cannot help those who don’t want to be helped, especially when these beings have before them the example of what they could become and still decide not to act.” the boy added, when they had reached the deck of the ship. As always, his friend was right but Viktor was too afraid that such a speech was just what Hermione hoped not to receive from him and said nothing until Christmas morning, when he decided that enough was enough: when Hermione entered the Great Hall she seemed not to have the strength to smile at him to greet him, as she used to do, and deep circles surrounded her tired eyes, making her face even more dull. So without even thinking about it he joined her at Gryffindor’s table and asked her if they could talk for a moment in private, earning puzzled looks from everyone present. He already imagined what that herd of geese in her year would say: was he telling her that he had found someone else to go to the Yule Ball with? Or that he was tired of spending his afternoons in the library? Well, sooner or later they would know that it wasn’t either, so he decided that it wasn’t worth the trouble.

“I’m worried for you.” he admitted once they reached a fairly secluded spot.

“For me?” she asked puzzled.

“Yes, for you. This madness of the hunger strike must end. Can’t you see you’re barely standing?”

She widened her eyes and Viktor hoped he didn’t sound too aggressive.

“But I can’t stop right now that we’re so close to a result!” she exclaimed.

“Hermione, the only result you’ll get if you go on like this will be to end up in the infirmary. Is that what you want? Do you want them to send you home forcibly and your parents see you like this?”

Viktor knew that by mentioning her parents she would have had a stronger reaction as she never stopped talking about them, how much they loved her, supported her and generally how they were extremely fantastic, sometimes making him see his parents as the social climber monsters they were; of course, there were his brothers to make his family more bearable but they were just kids and he wouldn’t put on their shoulders the weight that should have been on those of his parents. However, this wasn’t the time to feel sorry for himself when Hermione seemed to have come out of a sort of trance and she was startled, shaking her head as if unable to comprehend how she had gotten to that point, shining eyes, though Viktor couldn’t understand why. He didn’t want to make her cry and above all he didn’t want a group of curious Slytherins to see her in that state, so he wrapped her in a strong embrace and she hid her face in the hollow of his neck.

“What do you say we spend the day in front of the fireplace and ask someone to bring us a decadent hot chocolate with whipped cream, cocoa powder and marshmallows before you disappear to get ready with your friends?” he asked and felt her nod.

“And the chocolate chips.” she murmured, her voice so childlike that it broke his heart.

“And chocolate chips. Do you also want the biscuit straw from Honeyduke?” he asked, looking at her as she dried her tears. He would have done anything to make her happy.

“Did you buy them during the last trip?” she asked, with renewed energy.

“No, but Poliakoff has, so we can steal two from him.”

The idea made her laugh and Viktor could only think that it was the most beautiful sound in the world.


	7. Getting Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come to get ready for the most awaited night of the year

Hermione forced herself to leave the blanket fort she and Viktor had created around five p.m. to reach Ginny in the Common Room. Together they entered Angelina and Alicia’s room, which the two girls had worked to transform into what seemed to be the backstage of a fashion show: they had joined the beds, creating a queen size where they had already carefully laid out their clothes, one a purple velvet dress with a sweetheart neckline and the other a shiny black suit from which a lace shirt with a collar full of ruffles would appear, making sure to leave enough space for those of her friends. The two bedside tables had become two make-up and hair stations thanks to the brilliant idea of putting two large mirrors on it, while the wardrobe had been left open, thus allowing the girls to also have two full-surface mirrors to contemplate the final result.

“Let’s start with the important things!” exclaimed Angelina, extracting from her trunk the Muggle camera Hermione gave her for her birthday. “Let’s take a picture of the before and one of the after, what do you say?” and as soon as they were finished, they immediately started to smear themselves with vanilla cream, kindly offered by Ginny, that made their skin smooth and velvety, then they moved on to the nails, filing and polishing them. Alicia lost a lot of time removing her cuticles while Angelina, who would wear silver stiletto heel sandals, put on a neutral enamel shade on her toenails. Hermione was stunned by how long it took to _be at her best_, as the note Mrs. Weasley had attached to the dress she had sent to her daughter said. It was obvious that it wasn’t new but Hermione just couldn’t imagine who it belonged to; it was hard to imagine that the same woman who made those horrible wool sweaters had the ability to make something so delicate, so she guessed she had just bought it used. They helped each other to style their hair but it was evident that the more skilled was Angelina: she explained how her mother had taught her to braid since she was a child and how much fun her family’s formal events were as all women sported increasingly complicated hairstyles. When the moment of makeup arrived, Hermione decided not to overdo: she wasn’t used to putting on make-up and she didn’t even know how to do it well, so she just put some concealer here and there where it seemed that her skin was duller and giving a slight coat of mascara only on the upper lashes. She was pleased with the result and also liked Ginny’s, who had opted for a beautiful light pink lipstick that matched well with red hair. Careful not to smudge anything and with each other’s help they put on their clothes: Hermione’s perfectly drew her straight shoulders staying tight till the waist and then opening up in a floor-length skirt that made her feel like a princess. Finally, they put on their shoes and Hermione regretted a bit her decision to choose heels: although they were low, Alicia would certainly have been more at ease with her highly polished pointed flats.

“You’re beautiful …” Ginny whispered, almost breathless, to Angelina and she couldn’t blame her. She and Fred would steal the show from the champions, she was sure, but she didn’t mind. They got a little late and Hermione could barely talk to Viktor before Professor McGonagall called them. She greeted Harry and Parvati and tried to ignore her unflattering look, exactly like those of Viktor’s fan club, Pansy Parkinson and Malfoy, although the thing that hurt her the most was Ron’s indifference. Once everyone had settled in the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall ordered to the champions and their companions to line up in pairs and follow her. They obeyed, and everyone in the room applauded as they made their entrance and advanced towards a large round table from the other end of the Hall, where the judges had taken their seats. Hermione felt tense about the idea of having dinner with Igor Karkaroff, renowned for her aversion to the Muggleborns, but tried not to think about it, enjoying the walls covered with sparkling silver frost and the hundreds of garlands made of ivy and mistletoe that they crossed through the black starlit ceiling. She wondered if Viktor knew of the Muggle custom of kissing under the mistletoe and found herself no longer so afraid of reaching that kind of intimacy with him, perhaps even wishing he tried to do it that night. She realized only when they were almost arrived that Houses’ tables had disappeared and in their place there were a hundred of them, obviously smaller, able to accommodate a dozen people, all lit by lanterns. As they took their places Hermione tried not to stumble and smiled, just like Viktor did, although it was evident that his attitude was also a construct; probably they would’ve been able to enjoy the evening only after the first mandatory dance, when they would no longer be in the spotlight, with everyone’s eyes on them. Finally Ron had dropped the façade and although he was looking at her with eyes reduced to slits, ignoring the poor girl who had gone with him, at least he had a reaction since he hadn’t spoken to her since Viktor had invited her. Dumbledore smiled at her cheerfully, while Karkaroff wore an expression very similar to Ron’s as he watched her and Viktor mutter softly. Ludo Bagman, who for the occasion wore a purple robe lit with large yellow stars, clapped his hands enthusiastically but his attentions were all turned to Harry, like those of Madame Maxime, who had abandoned the usual black satin uniform replacing it with a dress with a wide lavender silk skirt, were all for her pupil. Suddenly, Hermione noticed Mr. Crouch’s absence and that his place was occupied instead by Percy Weasley, who had recently been promoted to his personal assistant, according to Ginny, and never stopped bragging about it, which he evidently started to do immediately also with Harry, who had taken a seat next to him. Together with Viktor they studied the menus that offered three appetizers, six main dishes, three side dishes and three dessert to satisfy all the guests. As soon as Dumbledore ordered, asking for pork chops to his plate, everyone else did the same. Hermione felt particularly observed but tried to ignore it while ordering the _escargot à la Bourguignonne_ and, once she reached the half of the plate she exchanged them for Viktor’s _Kyopolou_, a dish that made him start to talk about Durmstrang.

“In short, Viktor” said Karkaroff, “you’re telling to your charming friend how to find us.”

Dumbledore smiled, a twinkle in his eyes, and replied in Hermione’s place, saving her from the embarrassing conversation and allowing her to enjoy the mutton soup in peace, though she could hardly bear Fleur’s voice, who criticized Hogwarts’ decorations with her date.

“Little things,” he said briskly, looking at the glittering walls. “At Beauxbatons we have ice sculptures all around the dining room. They don’t melt, of course, they are like big diamond statues that shine. And the food is simply superb.”

Hermione tried to refrain herself from replying that if instead of ordering the omlettes, something in England was eaten for breakfast, she had taken the meatballs she would understand what it meant to really eat. When all the food was consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to imitate him. Then, with a flick of the wand, the tables shot away and spread along the walls, leaving the floor uncluttered, where, along the right wall, an elevated platform appeared with a complete drum set, several guitars, a lute , a cello and some bagpipes. The Weird Sisters climbed onto the stage greeted by enthusiastic applause; they were all exceptionally shaggy and dressed in long black dresses that had been carefully torn. They took the instruments and Hermione, who was so busy looking at them that she had almost forgot what was about to happen, suddenly realized that the lanterns on all the other tables had gone.

“Are you ready?” Viktor asked Hermione, as if they had an alternative. If she had pulled back right now she would’ve made a fool of herself and Professor McGonagall would’ve never forgiven her and she would’ve done anything not to disappoint the woman. Besides, she didn’t want to run away anymore: everyone had to see that she and Viktor were happy and incredibly absorbed in each other.

“Absolutely.”


	8. The Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened during the Yule Ball

Standing up, Viktor almost tripped over his feet. The Weird Sisters attacked a slow and lugubrious melody that seemed decidedly unsuitable for the joyous celebrations of Christmas and above all for his mood but still advanced on the lit dance floor, taking care not to pay too much attention to the looks that he and Hermione above all had attracted all the time; being a public figure he was always in the spotlight but all those attentions seemed to him an invasion of his private life and he feared that in the long run they would’ve bothered Hermione so much as to induce her to ask him to accompany her to the dormitory and put an end to the evening, but a moment later she had grabbed his hands and adjusted one around her waist, making him forget all his worries. Like they had practiced before, after a few steps he made her do a _pirouette_, or at least it was how Hermione called them, making her periwinkle skirt made of an inestimable number of flounces open like a blooming flower, attracting many other looks. They obtained the long desired privacy when the second song began and many of the spectators flocked to the dance floor together with their companions: Viktor saw the youngest of the Weasleys squinting in pain when Neville clumsily stepped on her foot, but the view was obscured by Dumbledore whirling along with an incredibly graceful Madame Maxime. When Mad-Eye Moody, who was engaged in a clumsy two-step with another Hogwarts professor, approached, Viktor stiffened but tried to conceal loudly clapping at the end of the song.

“Do you want to sit down?” asked Hermione worriedly, but he shook his head and kept dancing, trying to avoid Angelina and one of the Weasley twins, so wild they risked to run over whoever was near them, until they were out of breath and with their mouths dry like the desert.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, following the look of his lady, who had come to rest on Potter and Weasley, sitting together with a girl probably Indian at one of the tables near the track.

“Thank you,” she replied in the tone of someone apologizing, before heading briskly toward them.

Although he wanted to leave her space, he was also willing to spend as little time as possible away and give her the magical evening she deserved, but he was still Viktor Krum and it was obvious that no one was going to let him go back to his companion, so he answered Karkaroff’s questions quickly, he exchanged a few words with some Beauxbatons boys and even scribbled a quick autograph for a third-year Hufflepuff boy who nervously told him he had begged his sister to invite him so he could meet him person without having to disturb him during the meals. The thing pleased him and touched him too but the feeling didn’t last long because, before he even got in line for the drinks, he noticed that a small crowd had gathered around the table where Hermione had gone and Weasley’s voice was resounded half-way through the song change. When he finally managed to reach her, Hermione was open-mouthed and her cheeks were so red that Viktor wondered, for a fraction of second, if that worm hadn’t slapped her, given also the malign expression he displayed.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he was saying. “He’s one of Karkaroff’s students, he knows who you’re friend with, he’s just trying to get close to Harry …” he growled, before stopping abruptly at his sight. Viktor didn’t consider himself a violent person but he knew he was capable of arousing a certain fear, so he wasn’t particularly surprised when Hermione took his hand, as if to calm him, and whispered: “He’s drunk, he’s not worth it.”

"For your information,” he hissed at the red-haired boy who seemed to want to disappear under the table, or perhaps his friend’s shadow “I’m not interested in getting close to _Harry_,” he said, placing particular emphasis on the name and imitating his English accent, “nor to those who are or are not Hermione’s friend, as opposed to those present. Therefore, if you don’t mind, I would go back to my evening and I advise you to do the same or leave, I don’t care, as long as you don’t disturb us anymore, understood?” he concluded, scanning everyone’s faces and finally returning to meet the terrified gaze of the one who, looking at him well, was just a stupid and childish boy, unable to see the true value of people and above all to understand the decisions of the one he should’ve considered as part of his family. The small crowd dispersed as quickly and silently as possible, while Hermione, who had come close enough for him to be able to hold her shoulders, looked at his friends with clear contempt.

"Didn’t we have to go get drinks?” he asked, and she nodded, no longer meeting the two boys’ eyes, even when they returned to dance.

“Would you like to take a walk?” he asked her when he was convinced that the room was designed specifically to make him sweat like a pig. She seemed enthusiastic, so they skirted the dance floor and went out into the Entrance Hall. The door was still open and the dancing lights of the fairies in the rose garden gleamed and glittered as they descended the steps, at the end of which they found themselves surrounded by bushes, winding ornamental paths and stone statues. It wasn’t as romantic as it looked from above and surely the presence of all those people didn’t help at all, so they walked silently until they reached a particularly beautiful fountain, on which the moonlight was reflected, silvery. There was a bench nearby, and if they had managed to ignore Fleur and his companion who kissed passionately somewhere in the maze they could have had a brief moment of intimacy. But the words, all that he had thought to tell her since he had invited her, and perhaps even before, didn’t arrive, the feeling that it wasn’t the right time to tighten a lump in his throat.

“I just don’t understand his reaction.” Hermione said after a while, interrupting the silence. Viktor had in mind several reasons why her friend might’ve behaved that way, but he said nothing, noting how obvious his lady’s need to talk about it was.

“He wasn’t interested in inviting me and he doesn’t even feel any senseless dislike for you, since when you arrived he did nothing but blab about autographs and photographs. Think, he even has your model on the bedside table!”

Viktor said nothing, but to every detail she added it was clear how much she had been, or perhaps still was, in love with him. Although it hurt him deeply, partly because he was aware of being better than that weak asshole, partly because it was Hermione they were talking about and he would do anything to be worthy of her attention and affection, he still listened to her, girding her shoulders when she shivered. “Perhaps, however, the thing that hurt me the most was his belittling of what we are, whatever it is, because no one has ever made me feel this way, nobody has ever been so interested in me …” she added, but her voice it broke mid-sentence and it took her a while to recompose. “As a child, before Hogwarts, I didn’t have many friends. No one was interested in talking about books or spending afternoons at home when the sun was out and you could play in the park, so when I came here and they made me feel accepted, it was enough. With you, though, it’s different.” she concluded, and leaned her head against his shoulder, as if emptied, and though it seemed she wanted to add something, Viktor didn’t insist and silently stroked her bare shoulder until Fleur’s moans were too much to bear and they came back running and giggling, with large swarms of multicolored fairies that rose as they passed. Despite the hitch, Viktor’s plan went well and they danced a long time before joining Darina, Alicia, Poliakoff, Andrei and their companions, who were talking about giants. One of the two unknown girls seemed visibly bored, but Viktor was certain that Hermione would’ve liked the subject and surely she would’ve had some interesting notions to add, so he didn’t give particular importance to the reason why the discussion was started until he realized that the base was Hermione’s half-giant friend.

“And who cares if his mother was a giantess?” the bored-looking girl asked once she had stopped probing the room.

“Well, none of those who know him, because they know he’s not dangerous, but many might consider him inherently evil if they knew of its origin.” replied Hermione and it was obvious she experienced it on her skin and so she continued for a quarter of an hour until, around midnight, the Weird Sisters announced the last song and everyone decided to dedicate themselves to one last dance, a slow one, before having to leave.

“I’m sorry things went like this,” Viktor whispered to her about halfway through the song.

“Why?” she asked, raising her head from his chest to look at him. She didn’t look sad or disappointed, just curious to know what was bothering him, and maybe even a little drunk.

“I wanted it to be perfect, because you deserved a perfect evening, and instead your friend first, then Fleur and that guy in the park and now even my friends are starting to gossip!” he exclaimed, frustrated.

“Your friends said nothing wrong. Rather, I’m sorry for Poliakoff,” she said, pointing with a nod to the poor fellow who seemed to be looking for all the ways to further draw his lady to him “but everyone knows that Allison Barnes was hoping to be invited by someone else.”

“Really?” he asked, glancing at the girl with the long blond hair that fell on her bare back like golden curls. She was beautiful, although for his tastes she was trying too hard, and she struggled to imagine that any boy his age could wish for someone else when someone like that hoped to be invited. “He was the one who invited Fleur, right? Darina says that Alicia heard that she used her Veela powers to get invited…” he began, but Hermione seemed to hold back laughter so much he had to ask her what was happening.

“You were the one she wanted to be invited by” she replied, with a bright smile on her face. “She was so sure that in the end you would’ve invited her that she refused everyone until you sent me the snitch and then she found herself having to accept the invitation of someone she didn’t liked to not look like a fool with all those to which she had already said someone invited her.”

“But I never saw her!” he exclaimed, making her laugh again.

“This doesn’t mean she hasn’t done everything she could come up with to be noticed.”

“She could’ve run naked in the hallways and I would’ve never seen her anyway: since I came here I had eyes only for you.”

She looked at him with an expression of exaggerated perplexity but added nothing else and returned to lean against his chest until the song ended, after which she joined the loud burst of applause with which the Weird Sisters took their leave. They said good night in the Entrance Hall, and as he watched her walk away, a strange sensation flooded his mind, making him almost physically ill: she hadn’t yet disappeared in the stream of people who crowded the stairs and he already missed her.

"So,” Andrei asked, “did you give her her gift?”

Viktor blushed in shame and his friend needed no further answers: he had forgotten to give her her Christmas present.


	9. To Be Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione confronts Snape and during detention she takes a bath in the Great Lake with Viktor

On December 26th everyone woke up late. The Gryffindor’s Common Room was much quieter than it had been lately and frequent yawns punctuated lazy conversations. Hermione’s hair was frizzy again and as if nothing had happened the previous night she and Ron had returned talking to each other, albeit in a strangely formal way. It was time to think about the homework everyone ignored during the first week of vacation, too busy preparing for the Ball, and the students seemed rather down while Harry was starting to get a little nervous again, and although he could hide it from Ron, it was another story with Hermione, who remembered that February 24th was fast approaching and he hadn’t yet done anything to decipher the riddle inside the golden egg. Not that it was the only problem: in fact, as soon as the lessons resumed, the Gryffindors had the bitter surprise of finding a substitute teaching Care of Magical Creatures and not their gigantic friend, that was indisposed, according to Professor Grubbly-Plank, his hateful substitute.

“I don’t understand what Hagrid has.” Hermione complained that day at lunch, when she was finally able to see Viktor again, who had been incredibly shy the previous week. “If he hadn’t felt good he would’ve told us, wouldn’t he?”

The boy agreed, obviously lost in his thoughts, and Hermione made a mental note to investigate further what was happening to him, only to be distracted, when she reached the Gryffindor table, by a copy of the Daily Prophet that went from hand to hand generating general discontent, where, on the front page, there was an article from Rita Skeeter entirely on Hagrid and how much the half-human was a favorite of Dumbledore despite being huge in appearance and having terrified students with a succession of hideous creatures. Hermione snatched the newspaper from Lavender’s hands, which despite mumbling something, didn’t have the heart to reply when the classmate crumpled it and threw away what she had called junk. It was what happened later to be blatant and to enter the annals of Hogwarts history, or certainly that of the feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin: Hermione marched straight to Malfoy’s place and slapped him first and then Crabbe, below the everyone’s astonished gaze, including the professors.

“Granger!” Snape boomed, but Hermione didn’t care. How could that worm lie that way? Hagrid was a good man, at times naive, of course she saw it too, but he had never wanted to hurt anyone, nor had he abused his power as a teacher; on the contrary, the opposite had happened and he had to endure Malfoy’s harassment for two years, dreading that his father could take away with his influence the small space that, with Dumbledore’s help, he had managed to carve out in the magical community that wanted so ardently to be perfect, to eliminate all those who could somehow be different and undesirable. If Rita Skeeter had to write an article about a despotic and aggressive professor, she should’ve done it on Snape.

“Detention. In my office, now. And apologize to my students.”

“Never.” she hissed.

“Do you want to be in detention until the end of the school year?” he asked, rising from his seat and standing in front of the teachers’ table.

“Is this what you teach your students, then? To lie to get what they want? To be mean? I deserve to be punished for hitting them while they? Don’t they deserve it for lying?”

This was a huge affront to Snape’s authority, so much so that someone could have called it insubordination or lack of respect, but anyone who had seen the attitude that the teacher had held for four years against the most brilliant of the students in that school could understand why she was acting that way.

“And this is what you are taught in Gryffindor? To physically assault anyone who doesn’t agree with you?”

Probably the professor expected to put the girl, who was tremendously aware of all the students’ eyes fixed on her back and those of the entire teaching staff, in whose she read conflicting judgments, in the corner, but this didn’t happen, as Minerva McGonagall herself stood up to speak: “No, Severus, this isn’t what I teach my students so I advise you to return to your place. I will take care of Miss Granger, who will come to my office at the end of the lessons to decree what is the punishment that best fits her wrong gesture, myself. I advise you to discuss with your students, instead, about the weight their words.” she finished dryly, and sat down again only when her colleague stormed out of the room, furious. Hermione sat back down in her place with her head down, but saw, out of the corner of her eye, that her housemates’ attitude toward her had changed.

“You’ve been amazing.” said Ron, vaguely breathless. Hermione smiled slightly. She feared McGonagall much more than any other professor and didn’t want to disappoint her, which she probably did with that thoughtless gesture. She raised her head from the plate, that remained empty all the time, only in hope of meeting Viktor’s gaze, but the boy was gone, and his place left empty.

* * *

McGonagall’s punishment was much less harsh than what Viktor would’ve imagined as she merely forbade Hermione from participating in the Hogsmeade trip organized for mid-January. Obviously Viktor also decided not to go and they spent the day together in the cold and wet from the freshly melted snow park.

“We could take a bath.” he said, clutching his own cup of hot chocolate.

“A bath?” she asked, puzzled. Probably there were about 4o C.

“We do it often, in Durmstrang. Besides, I should practice a spell.”

Hermione’s attention snapped like a spring: “What spell?”

“Transfiguration.” he replied vague, amused by the light in her eyes.

“I’m very good in that area! Tell me, what do you have to transfigure? I hope it’s not something too big, because these are very difficult spells and I can’t help you, and probably not even Professor McGonagall, even though she’s the best in that field…”

"I don’t think it’s something I could talk to your teachers about.” he interrupted her, without raising his voice too much. Although almost all the students from the third year onwards had gone to Hogsmeade, he didn’t want to be heard while talking about the tournament with Hermione, partly to avoid problems, partly because he wasn’t sure anyone could help him when it came to what needed to be done to win, especially if it belonged to another competing school. Or any other school, actually.

“Oh … You probably shouldn’t even talk to me about it then.” she replied, disappointed.

“I know, that’s why I asked you to take a bath.” he replied with a half-smile. It was horrible not being able to share everything with her, not to mention the fact that he still hadn’t been able to give her his Christmas present, but maybe it was too late and besides she didn’t seem to have been offended for not having received one, even if even Neville had bought one for Ginny, who showed it off with some pride. The girl was probably too good for him, and he was certain that she was destined for great things, especially after he had seen her in the middle of the night training with one of Hogwarts’ brooms, the worst he had seen in a long time, and do prodigies anyway, but for the moment they were cute, although Hermione claimed that there was nothing between them.

“She would’ve told me, don’t you think?” she had asked him, rather annoyed, one day, and he had dropped the subject, even if it was obvious that Ginny would surely not have told someone that she has settled with Neville after her obvious crush on Potter. Regarding him, and his friend, a kind of peace seemed to have been established between them and Hermione but Viktor still couldn’t trust them, especially because he couldn’t just forget how Weasley had attacked her on Yule Ball night, ruining, at least in part, his romantic projects. Since that night he had no longer thought of declaring his love, let alone trying to kiss her, even though there were days where he really didn’t know how he managed to restrain himself, partly because he felt too embarrassed, partly because he had a crazy fear of losing her if she hadn’t returned his feelings, so he had contented himself with being something more than a friend and something less than a boyfriend, locked in that strange limbo that was like a bubble of happiness that by now no one, not even his friends, could conceive.

“How long do you think you can wait?” Andrei had asked him one morning during their usual run on the lake, and Viktor hadn’t stopped thinking about it since then. How long could he wait? Forever, if things stayed that way. But it wouldn’t happen, and he would be back in Bulgaria in a few months, and she would be more than two thousand kilometers away, with a life and habits that he didn’t want her to put aside or distort every time he went to visit. Yet, on the other hand, he wouldn’t have let what was between them, whatever it was, merely be a nice memory, so he kept waiting and watched the two parts of his heart that fought against each other. Was it okay to act selfish? Or should he have been a gentleman and let her make her decision without intrusion? Darina had reminded him, when the topic came out again during the long nights on the ship, that Hermione, brilliant as she was, was still a normal girl, and a younger one, moreover, so it was up to him to make the first step, whatever he wanted to do.

“But isn’t it too cold?” Hermione asked, snatching him from his thoughts.

“There are spells to solve this problem too.” he replied as a wide smile opened on both their faces.


	10. Interviews and Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her biggest problem seemed to be the suspicious interview that Viktor had given to Rita Skeeter but far darker secrets are hidden beyond Drumstrang's doors.

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were in front of the potion class along with Pansy and her Slytherin girls gang, all intent on looking at something that Hermione couldn’t see, giggling like mischievous children.

“Here they are!” exclaimed Pansy, who held a copy of the Witch Weekly, “Read this Granger, maybe you’ll find something interesting!“ she exclaimed, tossing the paper at her, before entering the classroom with her housemates. Hermione catch the newspaper and perplexed she took place with her friends at a table at the back of the room.

"What did she meant?” asked Ron, equally puzzled, and as soon as Snape turned his back to write down the ingredients of the potion on the blackboard, Hermione quickly flipped through the magazine under the desk until, in the middle section, they found what they were looking for: a photo of Harry opened a brief report signed by Rita Skeeter about his supposed love affairs in which not only his sad story was told for the umpteenth time, although he had repeatedly underlined the fact that he didn’t like the fact that his parents’ image and their sacrifice were being exploited, but wherein the woman made Hermione look like a social climber who played with both Harry and Viktor’s feelings. If she couldn’t care less about that part, she was far more perplexed about Skeeter knowing that Viktor had invited her to spend the summer with him in Bulgaria and that she had mentioned precisely how the boy had told her he felt for her after the second task. Viktor couldn’t have released an interview on such a sensitive topic, moreover with Rita Skeeter, right? Not that she was able to focus particularly on the issue, since Snape noticed the presence of the newspaper and snatched it from her lap, beginning to read it aloud to the whole class, with blatant pauses to allow his students to laugh, making it sound ten times more disgusting.

“Really moving,” he concluded, with a sneering smile, rolling up the magazine, while the Slytherins continued to laugh. “I think it’s better to separate you, so you can concentrate on your potions instead on your complicated love life. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger over there, next to Miss Parkinson. Potter, that table in front of my desk. Move. Now.”

Furious, Hermione threw her ingredients and bag into the cauldron and dragged it to the vacant seat next to Pansy.

“All these attentions seem to have gone to your head,” Pansy said softly, when the rest of her friends got back to work. Hermione didn’t argue: she knew she was just trying to provoke her in a desperate attempt to make Gryffindor lose more than twenty points but it wouldn’t work, so while the girl kept talking so softly that no one else could hear her, Hermione continued to pound her beetles, then pour them into the cauldron, and finally went on to slice the ginger roots. As a child she had never considered herself a violent person, but having a knife in her hand so close to Pansy that whispered in her ear all the wickedness that her petty little mind could conceive tempted her a lot.

“So I warn you, Granger,” the girl went on, unaware of what her victim was fantasizing about “famous or not, if I catch you just looking at Draco in a way that I don’t like…”

Hermione had to restrain herself from laughing at her: “I would never approach your precious boyfriend, Parkinson, even if he was the last man on earth. Indeed, if I can be honest, I am happy for you: you’re perfect for each other.”

Those seemingly nice words displaced the Slytherin, who had no time to think of other bad things to say to her as someone knocked on the cellar door.

"Come in.” Snape said in his usual voice, and the whole class turned to look as the door opened and a rather nervous Professor Karkaroff entered. Hermione was too far away to be able to hear the exchange between the two, but she gave Harry, who was right in front of the desk, a meaningful look. It was better for him to quote her every word if he didn’t want to be forced to face someone of a much more vengeful nature than Rita Skeeter.

* * *

“We need to talk,” Viktor said, sneaking closer to Hermione, barely opening his lips, determined not to be heard by anyone. The shop was semi-empty, but given what happened, he rather be safe than sorry, although, according to Andrei, he was starting to be paranoid. The girl winced, but, once she informed her friends, followed him quite sadly, probably aware that sooner or later that moment would come. She had managed to avoid him for a whole day, but once the weekend came she would’ve no excuses to escape, especially during a trip ad Hogsmeade.

“What’s so urgent?” she asked, once they had left Gladrags Wizardwear, a store selling hideous socks, where they were buying a gift for a house elf. Viktor looked around to make sure they were alone:although the air had warmed up and there was a trip going on, the road was deserted, which allowed him to speak without having to walk further away.

“I didn’t release that interview. I don’t know who heard it, even if I have a couple of suspects, or why they went to bring it back to Skeeter, but it wasn’t me.” he said in one breath, but judging by the absence of reactions in the girl, she must’ve known already. So why was she avoiding him? The answer came a little later, in the form of a question.

“Did you know Karkaroff was a Death Eater?”

Viktor was puzzled for a few seconds, wondering what this might have to do with her avoiding him, but realized how much it could alert her by remembering her blood status.

“Everyone knows this even if many don’t like to talk about it.” he replied, trying not to sound too annoyed. It wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t aware of it and after all he didn’t share his principal’s ideals, which seemed to him to have shown her at every opportunity.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, making Viktor even more nervous because he couldn’t understand why he should’ve done it and especially when.

“I didn’t think it was important.” he replied, realizing a second too late the implications of his sentence.

“So you don’t care about what those like me had to face? Just because you’re not a Muggleborn doesn’t mean you don’t have to be interested in it. I can’t even believe I shared a table with him, I even talked to him! How many of your friends are willing to turn a blind eye on the thing?” she snapped, and Viktor didn’t even know how to stop her from rambling no sense, too exhausted to entertain that conversation. Why, despite continuing to show her that he had no intention of hurting her, that he cared more about her than anyone else in the world, she continued to question his feelings and his attitude? So he took her by the shoulders, and she stopped abruptly, raising her face to look at him. Her eyes were hard, an expression that Viktor would never have wanted to see turned towards him, but he was tired of always having to give the best, of having to be constantly under scrutiny, when all he wanted was to be able to make what they had work, though, by now, he began to doubt if there was really something, partly also because of the girl ignoring his statement after the second task. How could she not understand how he felt underwater, when he had seen her asleep and tied up, when he had, at least in part, feared losing her?

“I don’t know what idea you have of this whole story, but it seems to me I have shown you that I want the best for you and I support you in all your battles. I came here to apologize, but all I receive are accusations rather heavy about my morality and I’m sick of your constant questioning how much I care about you when I constantly show you. I can’t do better than that and I don’t even know if you really want me to do it. If this is your, rather indelicate, way to keep your distance and put me back in my place, have the courage to tell me clearly so that I can go on. I don’t expect an answer now, but as long as you’re not ready to trust me, please don’t mess with me because it’s painful.” he said, before letting her go and turning his back on her, certain that if he stopped a little longer, he wouldn’t be able to keep his word.


End file.
